


Did You Miss Me?

by VampyrePrince



Series: Unrequited [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampyrePrince/pseuds/VampyrePrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Continuation from part 5) Sherlock and John return to the flat after lunch at Angelo's, and have a bit of fun before recieving some disturbing news from Mycroft. There is a traitor in their circle of friends, and this time it isn't Mary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did You Miss Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Woo finally getting to the point in all this madness. I will probably combine these parts into chapters at some point, but it's easier for me to stay inspired when I feel like I'm writing a bunch of shorts. Thanks for reading thus far if you have :)

The boys had barely entered the flat before John found himself slammed against the wall, Sherlock pressing their lips together and nearly suffocating him with deep kisses. The doctor grasped his friend's jacket and pushed it roughly off of his shoulders where it slid to the ground, his own following shortly after. It wasn't until they heard Mrs. Hudson's footsteps on the stairs that they paused, Sherlock leaning over to grab the door just as the landlady reached the top of the stairs. “We'll be fine without tea, please feel free to go back downstairs.” He slammed the door shut in her face and returned to John as she mumbled something about decency and rudeness, making her way back downstairs.

“Sherlock, you really need to be nicer to Mrs. Hudson.”

“No time for kindness.” He dived in for another kiss and was stopped by John's finger as it was placed on his lips.

“No.”

“You can't possibly be serious.” The doctor smiled and pushed Sherlock back, just staring at him.

“Very serious.”

“You're disciplining me now?” Sherlock laughed and went to back up in the direction of his chair. “Cutting me off. Of course.”

“Stop, don't move another step.” The detective paused and watched the doctor as he crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall with a smug look on his face. “I never said I was cutting you off.”

“You have honestly got to be the most confusing human being I've ever met.”

“Get undressed.” John ignored Sherlock's surprised face as he crossed the room to his red chair, standing before it. “Go on.” The detective turned to face his friend, reaching for the first button on his shirt with nervous fingers. He had been naked in front of John before, but for some reason this felt different. He was just standing there, so far apart from the doctor that he felt completely exposed. He was also slowly realizing that he was complying with the orders he had been given even though he had never considered himself submissive. He just felt like he should for some reason. It almost felt natural.

“Everything?”

“Everything.” John slid his jumper over his head and unhooked the first few buttons on his shirt. He watched as Sherlock removed his trousers and stood there awkwardly in his pants, crossing his arms and waiting. “Everything, Sherlock. Even the pants.” The taller man finally slid out of his pants, his breathing becoming heavy as he felt John's eyes caress every curve of his body. “I can't believe you're that worked up already just from taking your clothes off.”

“Well you're putting me on display, what do you expect?”

“Come here and get on your knees.” Sherlock complied, dropping to the floor in front of John and looking up into his eyes for further instruction. The doctor unhooked his jeans and slid the zipper down, pulling his pants down just enough to remove his half hard erection. He then slid a hand through Sherlock's hair, watching as the detective closed his eyes in bliss before gripping tightly, turning that blissful face into one of pain. “You know what to do.”

The grip loosened on his hair slightly as Sherlock took John into his mouth, the doctor growing to full hardness as his friend moved slowly at a rhythm, drawing him out and then in again with light suction. He groaned as he sped up his pace, John's hips rocking gently and then faster as he squeezed Sherlock's hair tightly again, holding his head in place. “Let me fuck your mouth.”

“John...”

“Don't argue. If you enjoy sucking me off so much then I'll give you what you want.” Sherlock took a deep breath and waited as John slid his cock into his mouth, moving his hips slowly at first and then faster and faster until Sherlock closed his eyes tightly, trying to keep from gagging as saliva began trailing down his lip. “Oh god... Look at me. Open your eyes.”

Sherlock tried to keep his eyes from closing but failed as John thrust deeper into his mouth. The doctor noticed his struggles and slowed his pace, moaning as Sherlock's eyes met his from below. He thrust hard a few more times before pulling out quickly, watching as a thick string of saliva trailed from his cock to Sherlock's mouth, the detective falling forward on his hands to cough a few times before shuddering to catch his breath. 

As soon as Sherlock recovered he sat back, wiping his chin and swallowing hard to rid of the excess spit. He stared up at John with his eyes glazed over, a few tear stains still on his face from when he had gagged. His chest was flushed red and a light sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead, his breaths were coming out short and ragged, and the very sight of him was so low and debauched, the image of someone who had completely given themselves up to another – in short, Sherlock had been reduced to a panting whore, an idea that would have made him gag for a completely different reason months ago. But now he loved it. He was practically shaking with anticipation as John stood over him in his military glory. His John.

John sunk to his knees and ran his lips along one of the tear trails on Sherlock's face, licking a path to his lips where he kissed his friend gently and smoothed his hand through the dark curls on the detective's head. “I'm sorry, are you alright?”

“I'm fine. I didn't mind it.”

“Either way that was a bit much. I got carried away.”

“You don't have to apologize, John. I wanted this.” The doctor pulled Sherlock into a tight hug and rubbed his back.

“I know, but I never meant to use you.”

“I want you to use me. As long as it's you I don't care.”

“Jesus, listen to yourself.” John leaned back to look into his friend's eyes, his heart aching as he saw nothing of the former man he once knew. “Is this really all you want?” 

“Yes.” Sherlock crawled over into John's lap, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and capturing his lips in a deep kiss. “It's absolutely revolting.” He nearly ripped the last few buttons before sliding John's shirt down his arms. “It makes me sick.” He brushed their noses together as he positioned himself over John's cock, the saliva working as lubrication as he slid down slowly until it was fully inside him. He moaned against John's lips and brushed their mouths together. “I've become this submissive whore, practically begging on my knees for you to be mine.” 

John leaned back on his hands and thrust his hips up, watching as Sherlock moved on his lap at a steady pace, closing his eyes as a powerful head rush met his senses. The detective threw his arms around his friend's neck and moved faster, moaning each time John's cock hit his prostate. “Touch yourself, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock reached down and rubbed himself in time with his movements, speeding up both as he became impatient for release. John's arms began to tremble as they threatened to give out, Sherlock's torturous movements driving him to the edge. He was nearly at his breaking point by the time Sherlock came, their mouths smashing together as the detective rocked his hips throughout his orgasm, John coming just seconds after. 

They both drew back and remained silent in each other's presence, John finally having gave in to his weakened arms and fell back onto the carpet. Sherlock eased himself off of John and cringed as come leaked down his thigh. “I believe we are both in need of a shower.” The detective's usual exterior had finally resurfaced, John instantly feeling at ease to see his friend back to normal again. He often wondered if being a sociopath wasn't Sherlock's only issue.

“Yeah, probably a good idea.” The doctor struggled to sit up once more and managed to stand. “I'm assuming you want us to shower together, then?”

“As the phrase 'we are _both_ ' would imply, yes.” Sherlock smirked before standing and crossing the flat to the restroom, John chucking his jeans and pants to the side with the rest of his clothing to follow.

* * *

Sherlock collapsed into his chair after the shower wearing only his red robe, watching as John eased his coat and shoes on. The doctor leaned over to give his friend one last long kiss before making his way towards the door. “I hate leaving so soon, but I should really get back. I think Mary's worried you're going to steal me.” Sherlock chuckled and waved his hand in the direction of the door.

“Get going. I'm expecting a visitor anyway.” 

“Dressed like that?” Sherlock grinned and glanced at John, crossing his legs and sinking back into the chair's cushion. 

“It's no one of importance.”

“Ah. Mycroft then?”

“You're getting rather good.” 

“He's already here isn't he?”

“Yup.”

“Been here.”

“Yup.”

“Right. So now your brother knows we've been shagging.”

“If you're worried about the information leaking you have no reason. Now go back to Mary. I'm sure she's curious what we've been up to.” John shook his head and left, catching a glimpse of Mycroft in Mrs. Hudson's flat before reaching the front door.

“Ah, John. What a pleasure. Mind if I have a word?” The doctor tensed and nodded, stepping off to the side to meet Mycroft in the entryway. “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.” The landlady smiled and backed into her flat, closing the door to give the men privacy. Once they were alone, Mycroft's kind demeanor turned quite intimidating. “What you are doing needs to stop. Now.”

“I don't believe it's any of your business what your brother and I do.”

“It is very much my business, especially when I see him going down a bad road.” Mycroft focused on twirling his umbrella rather than John, which annoyed the doctor immensely. “First illegal substances and now sex? I'm beginning to worry for my brother's future.”

“I'd say sex is an improvement over drugs. You know damn well he's safe with me. He doesn't want anyone else.”

“No?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow and watched John skeptically. “And when you're gone? You don't mean to tell me that you plan on sticking around my brother forever. I've been made aware of your odd patterns with him as of late. Coming and going, not appearing for weeks at times?” 

“We've sorted this out. I don't really feel like discussing this with you.”

“Don't make an enemy out of me, John. You're a good man, but you are wandering down a dangerous path. The moment you decide to leave Sherlock will be the moment I must step in. I've cleaned up the mess before, John. I don't find joy in the prospect of doing so again.” The older Holmes brother watched as John left the building positively fuming. He sighed and glanced up the stairs, fearing what he would find upon entering. Sherlock looking wonderfully distasteful no doubt. He would have to make the decision soon whether to let this farce go on much longer or step in and resolve it himself, which wasn't his usual way of managing things. Knowing his stubborn younger brother, neither method would work very well.

Mycroft had barely a chance to knock on the door of the flat before Sherlock shouted for him to enter. He slowly opened the door to find his brother clad in a red robe and nothing else, lounging in his black arm chair with his head leaning back and his eyes closed. As he had suspected. Distasteful.

“Mycroft, I was expecting you. Quite rude to listen in on my private life.”

“That wasn't my intention, I assure you.” Mycroft took a seat in John's chair and pulled a cigarette from his pocket with a lighter, tossing them to Sherlock who caught them without a glance in their direction. “I figured it would be appropriate considering the situation.” Sherlock smiled and flicked the lighter as he held the cigarette to his lips, laying his head back once more as he breathed in the lovely nicotine.

“How kind. Now if you could please rush your way through your argument as to why you disapprove of my current lifestyle I may be able to get back to my work.”

“What work would that be? Figuring out your next interesting position to try with John Watson?” Sherlock lifted his head and glared at his brother.

“If you've just come here to harass me...”

“You are acting ridiculous, Sherlock. When is this going to end? You realize that John is only toying with you.”

“He isn't toying with me, Mycroft. We've discussed this at great length and your involvement is not required.”

“He doesn't love you.”

“I know that.” Mycroft leaned over and massaged his temples. His brother had gone off the deep end once more, and it was unfortunate that the news he had originally come to deliver could wreck him completely.

“You must start thinking with your proper brain instead of your other one. You haven't been yourself.” Sherlock took another long drag from his cigarette before focusing on his brother.

“If you're implying that I'm only thinking with my cock then you're sorely mistaken. I can differentiate between the two just fine.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows at Sherlock's use of the vulgar language, a look of disgust replacing his surprise soon after.

“John Watson has turned you into the perfect whore, hasn't he?”

“It doesn't concern you. Now get to the point or get out.” The older Holmes brother sighed, leaning back in his chair and forcing himself to forget about his brother's love life for the moment. More important things needed to be addressed.

“You are aware that Moriarty has supposedly returned?”

“Yes. I remember the broadcast, but that isn't solid proof.”

“We've received word that there is someone aiding him in his return, someone working under him. The only information we have at this point is that this person is close within your circle of friends. Someone you should know very well.” Sherlock sobered instantly and leaned forward.

“Not Mary...”

“No Sherlock, not Mary, but this is the very reason that you must keep your head on straight right now. Before Moriarty was only interested in getting to you through John. Now that Mary is involved her safety may be at risk.”

“She can handle herself quite well if I remember correctly.” A flashback of the bullet piercing through his chest hit Sherlock instantly, causing him to pause and take a deep breath. He had forgiven her for that simply because he knew she hadn't meant to kill him, but even after the fact she had threatened him once more with death when he had escaped from the hospital. When she thought it was Sherlock and not John in the chair, just to prove her accuracy with a gun. 

“If you hadn't noticed she's rather far along with child, so I highly doubt her skills will be up to par if needed.” Sherlock put his cigarette out on the table beside his chair. He no longer felt the need for it. “My point is that if Moriarty gets Mary he gets John, and he gets you, and now there is a second party involved that is very close to him, someone close to you, Mary, or John.” Mycroft stood from his chair and started for the door. “Quit toying around. It will end with disaster in more ways than one, and you won't be the only one in pain.”

Mycroft left without closing the door, which was soon remedied as Sherlock jumped up from his chair and slammed it shut, leaning back against it. Everything he ever wanted to enjoy in life was always compromised in one way or another, and he was starting to become tired with it all. He had found momentary happiness, even if it wasn't true happiness, but it was good enough for the time being. 

The detective made his way calmly into the kitchen to make some tea, a resolution forming in his mind that would solve everything. Next time he came face-to-face with Moriarty, he would kill the man himself. There may have been a point in time when he enjoyed their little game, when it gave him the rush he craved. This time around he had found a different cure for that craving, and it was slipping through his fingers. He would be sure that Moriarty was dead when he'd finished with him. He'd had blood on his hands before for John Watson, and he would do it again.


End file.
